


When Everything Is Burning, You Can't Just Look Away

by smallstarfox



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Character Study, Conflict, Crying, Dissociation, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Hearing Voices, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Mental Breakdown, Mild Blood, Minor Injuries, Past Lives, Psychological Trauma, Repressed Memories, Self-Destruction, Self-Doubt, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-28
Updated: 2020-01-28
Packaged: 2021-02-27 08:02:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 6,995
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22453855
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/smallstarfox/pseuds/smallstarfox
Summary: When did you last go home? That same line drives the Doctor to distraction over and over again, pulling her endlessly towards the burning remains of Gallifrey.
Relationships: Thirteenth Doctor & Yasmin Khan & Graham O'Brien & Ryan Sinclair
Comments: 14
Kudos: 96





	1. Stage One - Shock

**Author's Note:**

> That whole bit about the Doctor just. Returning to Gallifrey?  
> That broke me.  
> It also gave me far too much muse to handle.
> 
> Welcome to unhealthy coping mechanisms and the exploration of mental health: the fic
> 
> I will not be offended if you don't read, or only read a little, or anything.  
> Please, keep yourself safe first. This fluctuates all over the place.  
> This isn't one of my fun reads, unless you like to look at the inner machincations of the Doctor.

She had to know. She had to know the truth. The message couldn’t be true...could it? The Master lied. They always did. Surely, he wasn’t telling the truth? Her hearts were pounding in her chest, ringing in her ears, playing the same familiar quartet rhythm over and over and over again until it drove her to distraction. Why was she indulging him? It was the tone of his voice. The bitter bite of harsh, unforgettable words. It sounded true. Everything did. The Doctor hated that she believed him, hated how her hands smacked and yanked at the controls of the TARDIS. She heard her protest, yell at her, trying to keep her under control and stop her from making a mistake. Except, she couldn’t stop the Doctor no matter how she tried. It was written in the course of time, a moment unable to be deviated from, something that was so set in the fabric of existence...She would bear the pain. And the loss. And the suffering. Relive it over and over and over again. The TARDIS ground to a halt, ceasing all sound, lights growing cold. Shaking with each step and stuttering each breath, the Doctor walked over to the doors. Her hands stilled on the wood, palms sweating as the accursed beating still rang out through her ears and in every corner of her mind.

_ ‘When did you last go home?’ _

A fire burnt inside her, hands tugging at the door as a strong step took her forward into the unknown. Just for a moment, just for a moment, she begged for the Master to be wrong.

And then she saw it.

A burnt orange sky, sun blaring high. Smoke. Ashes. Remnants of buildings, of homes. Of lives. The Capitol...ruins. Shards of glass cracked and shattered, standing still with charred edges of once intricate metal framework. Everything was freshly laid to waste, with not a single trace of anyone or anything left in sight. Fires were still burning in some places, glowing red hot against black char. Her heartbeats were drowned out by the sounds of crackling and whispers, not even her own gasped of repulsion able to break through it all. White hot tears started to form in her eyes, mouth agape as she tried to find something - anything - that was still standing and not in retched ruins.

She turned on her heels and stormed inside, closing the doors with a harsh thunderous clap of her hands, nearly shaking the TARDIS in the process. Everything grew darker, colder, the blue light doing nothing to settle her. But the TARDIS was mourning, just as much as she was, but she daren’t show it. Not again. Not now. The Master did not deserve her grief. When she came to the raised platform before the console, the Doctor slumped her back against one of the crystal columns and dropped herself down, fighting back the veritable incoming flood of tears and screams. She needed to stay calm. Composed. Think. But nothing made sense anymore. Everything she had fixed...everything she had saved...her whole life had come crashing down in front of her very eyes again. The worst part was? There was nothing she could have done to stop it all.

The only answers she could get lay in her pocket, hands fumbling around with the round disk briefly, before dragging it out into the open. The Doctor stared, ran her fingers over the circular engravings, before pressing in the centre. It lit up, glowed white and felt as if it burned her hands. Crackles from further away alerted her to a hologram forming, setting her frantically into motion. Chasing it. How she wanted it all to be a lie. A falsehood. An illusion. But as the Master stood there, hints of grief etched into his face in kind, it all came crashing down around her again. Gallifrey had fallen.


	2. Stage Two - Guilt

It had to be Earth. Of course it did. It was just her luck; the universe was taunting her. Making a mockery of everything she stood for. It wasn’t enough that she had lost her home, her honest to god home. No. She had to lose her second home too. She had taken her companions to the destruction of their home. This was nothing like on Satellite Five, although that was a far distant memory. She had seen the look on Yaz’s face. Tried to stop her. Do anything and everything to stop her from looking. But, how could she? How could she ignore her? And Graham? How could she have stopped them for realising the language was Russian, or noticing the sign, or anything like that? Her fam had started growing short with her, especially Yaz, but there was nothing she could do to stop it. They were the ones who kept asking questions. They were the ones putting her in awkward positions. They were the ones driving her to distraction. She needed to get away from them, drop them off home so she could breathe and think.

So that was what she did.

It wasn't hard. They wanted to go home, to have some normality. Recover from what had just happened. It suited her just fine, them leaving her all alone. It was how things were meant to be. The Doctor couldn’t do right by them, no matter how hard she tried. Keeping to herself was the only way forward, the safest bet, the best plan. Moreover, time away meant that she could start looking for him. There was no way that he was going to stay in that alternate dimension for long. No, not the Master. He was too clever for that, too cunning, and there was certainly no way he wasn’t going to gloat at her at every possible opportunity. He knew things she didn’t, and that both scared and enraged her. The TARDIS groaned and whined as she slammed her way across the console, entered the coordinates and time frame, storming away to the doors and flinging the back like they were made of paper.

_ ‘When did you last go home?’ _

Nothing had changed. She had prayed that it had, begged the universe to turn around and tell her that it was just a perception filter. A bad dream. An alternate universe or something. But no, she held her sonic out into the sweltering open air, and nothing had changed. The world was still on fire, still smouldering and crying out, whispers of Time Lords just echoes across the empty and desolate streets. Her body had a mind of its own, walking her out across the dust and dirt, away from the safety of the TARDIS and into the black hole of her despair. She couldn’t bring herself to look at her surroundings, take them in, her eyes focused on the remains of the citadel as she moved through unmarked streets.

_ ‘I did.’ _

Teeth ground together as she heard the Master gloating inside her head. She saw his face, his smile, how he denied her the full story. Fists balled against the pockets of her coat as her steps grew stronger, leaving fresh prints in the pottered soil. She could feel the tears brimming again, one breaking free and travelling down the side of her cheek as she walked. The Doctor stopped; head tilted to gaze up at the broken remains of the citadel in the distance.

Smoke still billowed, even now, the dry atmosphere doing nothing but extending the life of the fire and flames that flickered and danced around her. That mocked her. Belittled her. Scathed and scorned her. It twisted up into her nose, sending bile up into her throat as the steady silent flow of tears washed over her. Everything hurt. It hurt to breathe, to think, to exist. How could everything she knew be a lie? She knew her life, her past, everything she had seen and done. She knew the people she had loved and lost. How could they be a lie? How could thousands of years of her life be a lie?

Pale blue sleeves came up to her face and scrubbed the tears from her eyes, head held low and hair blanketing her as she made her way back to the TARDIS. She had let it happen. She had forgotten what the past had taught her. She was at fault. By the time she reached the TARDIS, her tears had run dry, leaving her eyes burning. The doors opened and then closed sympathetically as she entered, providing the perfect backrest for her to lean against as she felt a harsh wave of vertigo take over. Nothing made sense.

How did the Master destroy Gallifrey?

What was the Timeless Child?

How had she not heard a single cry for help?

Why did everything feel wrong all of a sudden?

The Doctor’s head fell back against the wood, skull cracking from the harsh knock, dragging an iota of sense into her as hazel-green eyes stared at the icy blue room surrounding her. It had been wrong to come back to Gallifrey. It provided her with no answers, only more questions to ponder over and lose sleep over. More things to hide away from her companions. More reasons for them to call her into doubt. She wanted to tell them, desperately wanted them to know and to understand. But how could they? How could they possibly begin to understand what it was like to lose their home twice over? Once by their own hand…and once by their only remaining link to Gallifrey. How could she begin to explain that to anyone? It was better to shoulder the burden herself, keep all her feelings bundled up inside, let the waves and waves of guilt consume her.

It was all her fault.

Her fists collided with the wood, shaking the doors, before she marched around the console and up towards the hexagonal staircase. The TARDIS tried to draw her attention, flash something her way, but the Doctor continued on walking deeper and deeper into the bowels of the seemingly endless ship, determined to answer the questions she had by any means necessary. Something in her past was the key to unlocking what the Master had said. There had to be something that showed why he had tipped so far over the edge again. The winding corridors lead her through the TARDIS, past the Cloister Bell, deeper and deeper until she came to a standstill at a small door. The dark wood was etched with golden Gallifreyan, and seemed to hum with a particular energy. The Doctor let out a sigh, closing her eyes as she pressed her hand to the central circle. Gears turned and locks clicked, the door soon coming open as she pressed on into the room.

The Doctor hid everything about herself behind the most secure door she could build. A telepathic resonance key was the only way inside, to keep her life away from curious and prying eyes. Surely…something here would be the answer.


	3. Stage Three - Anger

“Listen…is it alright if I just drop you lot off for a little bit?”

There was a hushed silence over the breakfast table as three sets of faces looked up and stared at her. She was used to it by now, however, the looks of confusion and vague disdain. Questions burned on the tongues of her companions, but for once they never spoke them. Perhaps they would talk about her when she was gone, not that she cared. They could do whatever they wanted. What she wanted, was to carry on searching. By herself. Without distraction, without remorse, without fear. It had been at least a week – maybe two – since she had taken them home, so it wasn’t beyond the realms of reason for her to instigate a drop-off. The Doctor watched as Yaz raised her eyebrows questioningly, but remained tight lipped. Oddly enough, it was Ryan who got the first word in.

“S’fine with me. Me mates keep going off about me not hanging out with them again, should keep them quiet for a little bit. How long you thinking?”

It was strange, to feel relief at such a mundane question, and yet the Doctor still smiled in response.

“Oh, you know, just an hour. Need to go and get under the TARDIS again, reconfigure the shield modulator and make sure her engines are up to speed. Think of it like an MOT.”

Ryan nodded slightly, turning his head back down and taking a large bite of his toast. Graham hummed in kind, flicking his eyes back down to his newspaper whilst taking a long sip of tea. As the Doctor went to take a look at her own plate, she was caught off guard by another question coming her way.

“Didn’t you do that a couple of weeks ago?”

Another silence fell over the room, causing the Doctor to set her teeth on edge. Why had she thought it was a good idea to bring a police officer onto her ship? Of course Yaz wasn’t going to hold back. She never did. The trait that the Doctor once found inspiring and wonderful, had quickly soured into something she hated. It took all of her remaining willpower not to bite her head off and snap a response. She had to try and appear okay.

“Oh, you mean before you lot got kidnapped by MI6? Nah, that was a leak. Pool flooded, remember? Pretty sure that’s what I said on that voice message. Anyway, the TARDIS may be the best ship in the universe, but that doesn’t mean she’s infallible. Still needs pretty regular maintenance to keep her happy. When she lets me. Like today.”

She hated lying. Hated it with every fibre of her being. But it was her first rule – the Doctor lies. It wasn’t one she had set out to her newest companions, and for good reason. Still, it felt like she was swallowing acid when Yaz turned away and continue to poke around at her scrambled eggs. She could feel the TARDIS scolding her too, felt prickles and tingles in the back of her mind. Like an electric shock. The Doctor ignored it, trying her best to make it through breakfast without any of the food coming back up. She was only going to go back one more time…just once…there was bound to be something in the ruins that would help her make sense of everything.

The Doctor had no idea where she found herself. Or how long she had been there for. Her eyes burnt from all the dust and smoke in the air, throat dry and hoarse from digging around in the dirt and scrambling across the ruined buildings. Orange specks covered her bare arms and tainted the white sleeves of her shirt, clung to the one bright blue of her trousers. Try as she might, she couldn’t get a reading off anything. Her sonic was useless, lay abandoned on the ground near her feet as a large chunk of metal rested in her hands. Fingers wrapped around it tightly, tiny specks of blood dribbling down the rusted edges as her eyes scanned the intricate markings. Why couldn’t she figure out how it had all happened? Why could she not pick up any readings? Frustration took hold as the Doctor brought the metal up to her forehead and pressed herself against its still hot surface. Eyes closed, she slowed her breathing and reached out into the world. Memories were always locked inside every little thing.

_ People walked the streets, talked, went about their lives. Gallifrey was exactly how she remembered it. How she had left it. How she had saved it. There were plants growing, and a distinct hum of life all around. _

_ But something shifted, cracked, stuttered. Then…fire and death and ruins. _

“Why won’t you show me anything?!”

Flinging the piece of metal to one side, a harsh clang mixed in with her scream as the Doctor turned her head up towards the sky. She tried to ball her fists, tried to slam them against her legs, but she hissed in pain and brought them up to her eyes. Several cuts spanned over her palms and fingers, all oozing orange-red. The more she tried to close her hands up, the more pain shot up her arms, and the more she cried out into the deathly silent landscape. Throwing her head back, the Doctor dropped down into the dirt, hissing again as her skull bounced slightly from the force of the drop. Arms spread out, she clenched her teeth as her hearts returned to filling her head with the sound she hated more than the silence. The same thought began to swirl around and around, creating a discordant mess that brought tears to her eyes.

_ ‘The Timeless Child…the Timeless Child…the Timeless Child…everything you know is a lie…we are not who we think…why would I make it easy for you…’ _

“You always wanted to see me suffer…didn’t you?”

The Doctor muttered under her breath, wiping her bleeding hands down the front of her shirt as she sat herself upright again. There was a tension in her cheeks from where the tears had dried, and how she set her jaw. Teeth ground together as her hands balled into fists again, slamming into the dirt and used as leverage to hoist herself up. Bloodshot and tired eyes looked over to the shard of metal she had thrown, and the post it had landed against. She could see the Master’s grin inside her head, heard him laughing, and something snapped. The Doctor was a flurry of motion as she dragged the heavy metal support beam from it’s spot rooted in the ground, hoisting it over her shoulder and swinging hard until she hit a fractured pane of glass. With each and every swing she grunted and shouted, screamed as she pummelled a piece of wall to dust, felt the sting of debris hitting her in the face. Flecks of metal and glass cut into her skin, leaving her hissing every second she lay waste to the ruined home she found herself in.

The Doctor didn’t stop where her feet were.

She moved through the streets, adding to the carnage with every step she took, continuing to scream and cry and exhaust herself beyond her limits. Everything reminded her of the Master. His twisted, demented face. Everything reminded her of what she had lost, what she was still losing, reminded her of the glorious war hero she had been born to be. Tasting the familiar tang of blood on her lips, the Doctor threw the beam aside and dropped to the ground again, wrapping her arms tight around her ribs as she wailed a final silent scream into the encroaching night cycle.

Why should a violent, dangerous, remorseless Time Lord ever get to be happy?


	4. Stage Four - Isolation

“An hour?”

“Yeah, I-”

“You said an hour last time, Doctor, and you didn’t come back for two days!”

Had it really been two days? Apparently. Not like the Doctor could remember. Time was losing all meaning to her now. It slipped through her fingers, vibrated and swam around her, but provided no comfort or safety. Time was meaningless. The Laws of Time meant nothing. She vaguely felt a sense of déjà vu, how Yaz was shouting and posturing towards her. Had this already happened? It didn’t matter. None of it did. She just needed to go back. One more time. She had a theory now. Something to go on. If anywhere was going to give her answers, it would be the citadel itself. There was bound to be something in there. Maybe some of the Archives were still standing. Or a help message was left behind. Something. Anything.

“Doctor, are you even listening to me? Get out of your head for five minutes, will you, this is getting past a joke.”

Hazel-green eyes shifted from staring at the console, turning back to Yaz, whose face was set in a fierce scowl. She probably deserved it. How long had she not been listening for? Burning anger was starting to bubble up in her own chest, a deep-seated need to fight back, but the Doctor held herself back and tried to soften her face and body language. The situation needed diffusing – then she could go.

“I said I was sorry for last time. I meant it. There was a lot more work that needed doing than I-”

“You know…I don’t want to hear it. Just park up near my flat and I’ll go get Ryan and Graham. I couldn’t care less about what you want to do right now.”

“Yaz…”

She didn’t wait for her to respond. Yaz turned and walked up the steps, stamping loudly against the hexagonal tiles as she disappeared down the hallway. The Doctor’s shoulders slumped as she let out a quiet defeated sigh. It was better for them to be angry at her…better for them to be mad. If they could hate her any more, then they wouldn’t stay. She would be on her own. It was always going to be better than seeing them get hurt by her past, especially now it was completely called into question. She didn’t want anything bad to happen to them, and in order to protect them, she had to know what had happened to her home. It was the only way. Dragging her feet as she walked over to the console, limp hands slowly doing what was necessary to pilot the TARDIS back to Sheffield. There was a faint groan as they entered the time vortex, one that the Doctor recognised as a question, or of sympathy. Whatever it was, it helped comfort her. But not for long.

As soon as the TARDIS landed, the room came alive with footsteps. She opened her mouth to say something to her companions – her fam – but blank faces simply walked past her and made their way to the doors. They didn’t speak, didn’t even regard her with a look, simply left as soon as the TARDIS opened the doors to the mild spring air. The Doctor stood with her back to the console, eyes wide and mouth agape, feeling her hearts breaking. It hurt far more than having words thrown at her. At least then, she could fight back. Make her point. Silence spoke more than words ever could, and the rejection sent her reeling. She had lost one home, and now she was rapidly losing her second one, and there was nothing she could do to stop the calamity claiming her.

_ ‘When did you last go home?’ _

“Take me back.”

The Doctor all but whispered, shoulders shaking as she tried to push past her pain. The TARDIS stayed silent, lights dimming. Freshly healed hands curled up at her sides and pressed against her hips as she twirled around on the spot, staring at the central crystal.

“Take me back!”

Again, she was greeted by silence. With her whole body now shaking, the Doctor kicked out to the underside of the console, not even flinching as her boot connected with the metal and rattled the inside of the ship. Of course she was being stubborn, now of all times, everything in the universe was against her. Even her own TARDIS. A low growl reverberated deep in her chest and in her throat as the Doctor set about moving things along herself. She didn’t even need to look at the controls, she knew exactly where she was going. Switches were yanked and groaned under the strain she put them under, buttons cracked under the weight of her fists. Steam started to hiss from the grates under her feet, pipes wheezing and crying out as she vented her frustrations out on the console. By the time she felt the familiar vibrations of motion, the Doctor had stormed off to the doors and simply waited by them. When everything came to a stand-still, she turned her head back as she pulled the doors open.

“Don’t you dare try and stop me again…”

In a flash, she was gone, walking the broken hallways of the citadel like a woman possessed. Indeed, she was, by grief and rage. Both at the situation she found herself in, and herself overall. She had started to lash out – violently – and the little voice in the back of her head was begging her to stop. But she was in too deep, too lost in the chaos and torment of her own mind, hellbent on retrieving answers for what had thrown everything off kilter. As she strode through the citadel, the Doctor felt panic start to mix in with her other emotions. Without the familiar walls and floors, she had no real idea of where she was going. Without the other Time Lords…she had no point of reference at all. Steps soon became frantic as the Doctor broke out into a run, desperately trying to find something that she would remember. Anything. She could feel her chest tightening up from over exertion and the feeling of dread consuming her. If she couldn’t find anything…then what hope did she have left?

_ ‘When did you last go home?’ _   
  


When had she last visited Gallifrey? Before the burning…before the pain…she had gone back for Clara. Ripped her out of her death just a second before. Lost their memories. Regained them. But, he never went back. Did she? Had Clara ever returned to take her death like she had promised? Had she been caught up in the needless death and destruction too? The Doctor stopped dead in her tracks, chest heaving, more and more thoughts swarming around inside her head again. She wanted it to stop. Wanted the quiet, the silence, the certainty and safety of time. Is this what the Master felt like? Forever at war with the voices inside their head?

“Stop…stop…leave me alone! I didn’t ask for this! I fixed this! I fixed everything!”

She cried out into the ruins, hands clawing at her face before tugging fistfuls of hair as she dropped to her knees, whimpering and rocking back and forth. The Doctor stared down at the fragments of marbled floors, the dirt in between them, watching it darken as tears streamed down her face and soiled the ground. She forcibly pulled her fingers away, along with clumps of matted blonde hair, watched them scatter in the wind as her head dropped and violent sobs tore through her throat and shook her to her very core.


	5. Stage Five - Depression

How many times had she been back?

When was the last time she had slept?

The Doctor looked up at the ceiling, bed sheets knotted and tangled on the floor, arms spread wide across the mattress. She had tried counting the rivets in the archway of her room – three hundred and seventy four – but that had just kept her further away from reaching sleep. Her eyes felt heavy, weary, but every time she closed them she could see the burning silhouette of Gallifrey etched into the back of her eyelids. With her limbs feeling like lead, the Doctor endeavoured to turn herself over and meander her way out of bed. She picked up her discarded coat from the pile of clothes on the floor and slid it over her oversized shirt and patterned shorts. Thankfully, her feet were still in her favourite striped socks, dulling her movements as she walked out and into the hallway. The voices had started early – assuming it was still time to sleep – and they drove her towards the console room. The lights slowly came to life as she let her hands rest against the cool metal, the TARDIS almost instantly questioning her reasoning for being out of bed.

_ ‘When did you last go home?’ _

When the Doctor moved her hand to the main lever, she paused, feeling a chill crawl down her spine. Lights briefly flickered blue, then red, before returning to a faint golden glow. She knew it was a bad idea, what she was thinking, especially with her companions still on the TARDIS. They could wake up from the sound of the ship moving through the time vortex, find her, question her. Except, she was more than willing to take that risk. Something told her that if she didn’t go back, then she would never have a moment's peace to sleep again. She mentally apologised as her hand came down on the lever, felt the TARDIS slip away and give her the space she needed. Things had been beyond tremulous since her last outburst; the TARDIS stopped talking, her fam hardly looked at her and spent most of their time on Earth. The Doctor just need to see it, no matter how much it hurt. Because…at least then she could feel something.

Much to her relief, the TARDIS was near silent as they flew through the time vortex, even going so far as to cease the groaning and wheezing. What was the cause of that again? Someone told her, once. Hugging the coat close to her body, the Doctor slowly padded towards the doors, almost tumbling down the small step and barely managing to steady herself against one of the crystal pillars. After a few seconds trying to gauge where her body was in relation to the world, the Doctor continued on her way to the doors. They opened up for her, letting her take in the sight of orange on black. She had turned up nearer twilight hours, the air much cooler and the world fading to a dusty burnt red hue. Her head wobbled as she walked out onto the ashen soil, eyes glazing over. She could hear the repeating words in her head still, but they were being drowned out. Forced back. They felt hollow and muffled, like her head was filled with stiff cotton wool. There was a deep feeling of detachment as she walked, her mind and body separating further and further with each step.

_ ‘Further back…’ _

_ ‘She doesn’t know…’ _

_ ‘The outcast, abandoned and unknown…’ _

_ ‘It's buried deep in all our memories’ _

_ ‘Child…child…child…’ _

There was a sharp pain in her head, one that made her want to scream, but on the outside the Doctor did nothing. Inside her head, she cried and yelled as she watched herself wander the streets into the blackness of night, shivering and teeth chattering loudly. She couldn’t do anything to stop herself. The Doctor was travelling on something beyond auto-pilot, something primal, something out of her control. Time slipped through her fingers quicker than sand in an hourglass, the cold burning her skin. She walked the whole length of Gallifrey it felt like, walking through the silent ruins until she found herself stood at the entrance to the citadel. Her head craned up to the sky, icy winds blowing her hair across her eyes. She stayed still. The Doctor stood. Watched. Waited. Her body felt like stone, rooted to the spot, being worn down by the winds of time. She was so old…so very old. Time had not been kind to her, or him, or them. People had come and gone. She had saved so many…and lost more than she could ever dare try and remember.

_ ‘Child…child…child…’ _

_ ‘Timeless…’ _

A harsh wind blew across the planet, so strong that it knocked the weak and weary Doctor down to the ground. There was no part of her conscious enough to stop it. When her head connected with the ground with a sickening crack, her eyes still remained locked on the broken shell of the citadel. Moments passed, the lightness in her head growing to such an overwhelming point that she felt the edges of her vision grow blurry. The world was nothing more than a mass of shapes and colours, all fading into one as her eyes closed and the last shred of consciousness slipped away from her. The Doctor lay prone, exposed to the passing night, unable to drag herself up from the last crumbling remains of her psyche.

_ ‘Oh, Doctor. Look at you. You’re a mess. I thought it would make me happy to see you so broken, losing grip on reality. But instead…it makes me sick to my stomach. You don’t have any right to break down. You didn’t see the things I did. The schism didn’t break you like it broke me. You know nothing about our past. And yet here you are…sobbing like a child in your unconscious psychosis. Pathetic. Although, I have loved watching you snap at your friends. Oh, those moments really made me smile. I didn’t realise it was so easy to make you lose your cool this time around. What happened to you? What happened to you,  _ Theta _?’ _

Ever so slowly, the Doctor opened her eyes. It took quite some time before she could focus her sight, never mind try and push past the fuzzy feeling in her head. She groaned, rolling over onto her back, following up with a surprised whine. Why was her bed rough and cold? Hands moved by her side, feeling the texture of whatever she was on. Now that her eyes were working, she could see…stars? Her room didn’t have a planetarium. Never mind one that looked like…

“Home.”

Jolting upright, the Doctor frantically looked around her. She was on Gallifrey. In her coat. And pyjamas. How long had she been outside? Long enough for her to be shaking like a leaf, her hearts barely beating against her chest. Moreover, how had she even gotten outside? She turned her head to the citadel, then back around far enough to see the TARDIS in the distance. Arms and legs flew in all directions as she tried to stand up and make her way back to the ship. As she wound her way through the desolate streets, she vaguely recalled that Ryan, Graham and Yaz were still on board. Dirty hands came and ran down her cheeks, picking up moisture. She had been crying too? What had happened? There were far too many questions for one night. The Doctor just had to leave. 


	6. Stage Six - Acceptance

Another hour. Then she would give up. Erase the path from the TARDIS memory. Push everything so far down that she would forget it ever happened. In time, perhaps her companions would as well. If they stuck around long enough. Just one more hour. Alone. Sitting in the ruins, contemplating, ruminating. There was nothing else she could do to try and work out what had happened or what was happening. Everything just made her tired and weary and broken beyond measure. Her fam wouldn’t notice if she was gone – they were watching a movie in the lounge – and at least this time, she had an alarm system with her. Set for one hour only. Then she would come back, and try again. The Doctor mouthed an apology to the TARDIS, gently ran her hands across the console before turning towards the doors. In between the pounding headache and constant stream of discordant thoughts, she repeated a mantra on the tip of her tongue.

She was cruel.

She was cowardly.

She had failed to be kind.

With a quiet sigh, the Doctor pulled back one of the doors just enough to slip through the gap, closing it behind her. She tugged the hood of her coat over the top of her head, arms wrapping around her waist as she moved silently through the desolate landscape for the final time. In her head, she could see Gallifrey as it once was, as it should still have been. In her memories, the Doctor knew who lived where and what each building stood for. She had brought them all back…but at what cost? The air still choked her with smoke and ash, drying out her throat and eyes. It tasted bitter.

Part of her hour was spent travelling aimlessly, until she returned to one of the crumbling walls that still held up the remains of the citadel. Uncurling from herself, she let her hands dance over metal and stone, eyes closing as she tuned herself into the vibrations around her. She remembered first leaving Gallifrey, with Susan in tow, and taking the TARDIS from the museum. She remembered growing up, all the time spent at the Academy, the beaches and the Drylands, the Schism and their family. She recounted it all, sometimes fondly and sometimes with disdain, but always with a smile. When the Doctor opened her eyes, she felt the tears come freely, but still kept the soft smile on her face as she sighed. The Doctor was a sentimental old fool, despite everything they tried to project out into the world. Even though she hated what the Time Lords became, how they played with the Time War…she missed them.

Then, the voices came back. One voice. His voice.

_ ‘When I said someone did that…obviously I meant…I did. I’d tell you more but…why would I make it easy for you? It wasn’t for me.’ _

The smile faded away, the Doctor taking a step back from the citadel as her lips curled in anguish and fury. Hands balled into fists and pressed deep into the blackened metal, scratching char away with her knuckles as she dragged them down. She hated how he always seemed to be one step ahead, never gone from tormenting her. Another flash of memory hit her – hands around her neck, back burning against the railings – so hard that she thought that both her lungs and respiratory bypass system had failed. The Doctor was drowning, lost deep inside her subconscious, unaware that her fists were repeatedly colliding with metal and stone, dribbling blood with every hit.

What did he know about loss? What did he know about pain, about suffering, about the crushing loneliness that the Doctor felt every single waking minute of their lives? They had spent so long thinking that they had destroyed Gallifrey, that they had killed their people. They had lived with blood on their hands for so, so long. What had the Master ever lost? She had lost friends. She had lost family. She had lost their lovers, their wives, everyone who had ever meant something to them. When one punch cracked against metal, with a grotesque snapping sound, the Doctor stumbled back and screamed, cradling her fists close to her chest as it heaved up and down with gasps of air. With her arm quaking, she tried to look at the damage to her hand - blood, bruises, broken fingers - but found her vision obscured by floods of tears as she clamped her mouth shut and pushed all the pain into her jaw. The Doctor pushed, and pushed, and pushed...until finally she could carry on no more. Tension rapidly left her body as she twisted and slumped against bloodied stone, sliding down to the ground and looking up to the sky.

She loved the sky on Gallifrey, always had done. With her first set of eyes, they had mapped all the stars and the course of the two suns. They had watched day become night, and back to day again, just to avoid the people around them. She had always dreamed of exploring the world that lay beyond...and had done so with the greatest of joy.

“Why…”

The Doctor was tired. So very, very tired. She had been searching for answers for so long now. Searching for the Master. She wanted to tear into him just like he had done to her, but then again; what good would that do? She was better than him, even if she threw tantrums like a child. Even if blood continued to seep from her knuckles, tears staining her face, lungs burning as the pounding of her hearts drowned out all sense of logic and reason. Why was she hellbent on suffering so much? It was never bound to give her the fulfilment she hoped for.

“Why...why me?”

A buzz came from inside her coat pocket, followed by a shrill whining set of beeps. Taking her least damaged hand, the Doctor rooted around her pocket with a hiss through gritted teeth, pulling out the small box. It flashed red, continued to blare until she dropped it on the ground to silence it. The small machine shattered into tiny bits of plastic and cogs, and the world around her became nothing but the sound of the wind in her hair. She needed to get back to the TARDIS before her fam found her stumbling back, battered and worse for wear. Slowly pushing herself up, the Doctor staggered to her feet and made her way back through the empty winding streets. Her feet fell into the same bootprints she had left on her arrival, the same well-trodden path through the chaos. It was funny, in the most macabre way, how much she had spared a thought for Gallifrey. Not once had it ever thought of her. Only unless they wanted her help in some pointless and life-threatening endeavour. The idea made her scoff, scrubbing her nose with her coat sleeve as she chuckled low and dangerously.

Standing at the doors of the TARDIS, the Doctor looked over her shoulders, taking in the sight of burning black on orange. The smell of smoke stuck to her, assaulted her senses, but it didn’t matter anymore. Nothing did. As she pushed open the doors, felt herself being bathed in the golden embrace of her ship, the Doctor smiled and looked away. Oh, she would accept that Gallifrey had been lost to her again. She would accept the pain, the rage and the bitter tears. She would accept that the Master was trying to rile her, demean her. What the Doctor wouldn’t accept, was that nothing could be done to change the flow of time.


End file.
